Lost Souls Don't Fear the Reaper
by Gh0st
Summary: A little Ghost and Steve soul-mate friendship.


**Title**: Don't Fear the Reaper.  
**Notes**: I had to write a short story for my English Language AS coursework, so I decided to use two of the characters that are very close to my heart. _Lost Souls_ needs more fanfiction.  
**Warnings**: None.  
**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, for the life of me and all the money I could ever own, I don't own Ghost or Steve. They belong to Poppy Z. Brite...damn her! *shakes fist*

-----

"Came the last night of sadness. And it was clear she couldn't go on. Then the door was open and the wind appeared. The candles blew then disappeared. The curtains flew then he appeared. Saying don't be afraid. And she had no fear. And she ran to him. Then they started to fly. They looked backward and said goodbye. She had become like they are. She had taken his hand. She had become like they are. Don't fear the reaper."  
  
Steve lifted his head to draw a short glance up at his singing partner behind his straggly dark-brown bangs of hair before lowering his head again to keep an lazy eye on his fingers flickering across the _D, A_ and _E_ strings of his guitar. There was something very haunting about the way Ghost sang which was just one of the very few things which made Steve Finn very content inside. Truly, very little made Steve content as the years drew past bit by bit.  
  
Sat upon the floor of a deserted car-park, back resting against the slinky form of his old T-bird, a couple of cans of beer cracked open and left to the side, a guitar and your best friend from so many years gone by at your side. What else could Steve want on the earth? Except for a shit load of cash and more beer of course...  
  
Sure, Steve didn't warm to _The Blue Oyster Cult_'s classic _Don't Fear the Reaper_ especially. It was over-done, over-used. over-rated. However, there was something in Ghost's voice that allowed Steve to listen whatever was sung with it, not to mention play along. At any rate, he would follow Ghost around the world on foot if he asked him to, playing a little worn out track with his friend wasn't going to kill him.  
  
When Ghost failed to make vocal contact with the strum of the six-string for the next section of the song, Steve's finger's let one of the strums trail off into a gently vibration such as ripples against the surface of water before tilting his head at Ghost.  
  
"Hm? S'up?" Steve asked shortly, folding his arms across the body of the guitar while peering at the other boy beside him.  
  
Ghost had an aura, a very being that was just relaxation incarnate. Watching him, listening to him and being around him could make Steve's tense spirit melt into a slouching purring liquid mass far better than any drug he'd ever taken into his system could. Ghost was prone to visions, images in his mind where he would go silent and stare off into nothing with those endless pale eyes. And then, he would always turn and smile the smile he would only give to Steve before starting to tell him of the image he had drawn together somewhere in the recesses of his mind.

"Hey Steve...do you ever get the image of Death in your mind?" Ghost asked as he shuffled across the ground to join Steve with his back against the old T-bird.  
  
Steve watched Ghost's dexterous, slender fingers curl together a joint, snap open a lighter to allow the flames to slurp hungrily at the white paper end before taking a slow drag and offering it to his companion with a smile. "Well?"  
  
Steve shrugged, taking the smoke from Ghost and drawing in a steady breath from it also before staring at the sky.  
  
"To hell if I know. Why?"  
  
Ghost shrugged his lithe shoulders before leaning his head to lay it against Steve's, his eyes closing with a breezy sigh.  
  
"Simply curious...You have no image of Death at all? No reaper? No skeleton?"  
  
Again, Steve only shrugged, which made Ghost shift his head. Until Steve slung an arm around his friend's neck to yank him over again playfully.  
  
"Since when did I give a damn about that kind of crap- that's your area. But I'm telling you now, whatever the fuck this Reaper is meant to be if it's a cloaked skeleton or whatever, it ain't taking my Ghost without a fight. Or without taking me too. You're soul is mine ya know, Ghost Deliverance. No fucking Grim Asshole is taking what's mine when he's going along with his scythe. He even dares it I'm going to tell him where he can shove it."  
  
Ghost couldn't help but smile. How could you not smile with a soul-mate as protective as Steve? That was a soul-partner, someone would look Death in the eye and tell them to get lost. It was all Ghost could do but chuckle and curl himself up closer to Steve. Not even death itself could touch him while he was in Steve's arms.


End file.
